


Alone Together

by Sarren



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: The Doctor takes Yaz to a party.





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shopfront](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/gifts).

It’s something to do with the testosterone levels. The Doctor explains it, her face all lit up with enthusiasm and Yaz nods like she understands and the Doctor beams at her. Yaz feels that little flip flop sensation in her chest that she’d first experienced when Jenny Ng had asked if she wanted to be her lab partner in biology class in year 10. She hadn’t known what to do with it then (although she’d figured it out eventually) and she certainly doesn’t know what to do with it now.

The Doctor’s really keen to show them the solar confluence of something or other on the Moon of Diiiphyyn. Yaz didn’t follow much of the Doctor’s rapid-fire explanation, to be honest, but she seems super excited about it.

“It’s not really a moon,” she’s saying now, as she peers at something on the console. “Some ancient Druidic types got a bit confused, is all. Still, it gives people something to talk about if the conversation flags.” 

The TARDIS shudders and Yaz is grabbing for the nearest thing to hold onto, which happens to be the Doctor’s arm. The Doctor flashes Yaz a warm smile and pats her clutching hand absently as she returns her attention to the console display. “Sorry, everyone,” she says. “Bit of turbulence, nothing to worry about.”

“We’re not worried,” Graham assures her. He’s still on his feet and his expression is mildly enquiring. Ryan has slid down to sit with his back against the wall but he doesn’t look particularly fazed either. It’s not like they’re not used to weird shit happening with the TARDIS. With his balance issues, Ryan just figures it’s the best way to ride it out. “After all, can’t fall if I’m already on the floor,” he’d said. Yaz had happened to glance at the Doctor as he’d said it. The Doctor had looked for a moment like she was going to argue the point, but then she’d shrugged and said something like “not very likely, at any rate”.

“You’re still going to drop us off at the match, right?” Graham says, a bit anxiously. “We haven’t gone and got all gussied up for nothing?” He and Ryan are, for once, dressed appropriately for the occasion. The Doctor wants them to blend in, since she won’t be there with her magic authority card and her overwhelming confidence that seems to carry the locals along in her wake. Even when the locals aren’t even humanoid. 

They look quite fetching in nineteenth century attire, Yaz has to admit.

“Of course I am,” the Doctor assures them. “Sure you won’t change your mind, though?” she asks, her expression hopeful. “The TARDIS can easily alter your genetic coding to allow you to come with us.”

There’s some special confluence of the astral tides or something, happens only once every 562 years, people come from all over the nearby galaxies to witness it.

“Thanks for the offer, Doc,” Graham says, “but I’m quite attached to my body the way it is.”

“What if something goes wrong and you couldn’t change us back and we got stuck like that?” Ryan pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them protectively.

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world,” Yaz says. “We’re not an alien species, you know.”

The Doctor raises her hand. “Some of us are,” she points out. “Anyway, that’s very unlikely. Hardly ever happens. Well, there was that time—”

“Well, we’ve got all dressed up now,” Graham says hurriedly, gesturing to the period appropriate suits they’re wearing. “And we’re really looking forward to going to this match, aren’t we, Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

“Chance to spend some quality time together. My dad used to take me to football games when I was a lad.” Graham looks down at Ryan with a fond expression. Ryan rolls his eyes, but Yaz is pretty sure it’s all for show by now. She’d bet money that Ryan’s dad never took him to the football.

“So, what’s so special about this match, then?” 

“United won. Before the Premier League was formed, the Football League was the top football competition. Sheffield United were the champions of England in the 1897-1898 season.”

Yaz can’t resist. “And it’s all been downhill since.”

“Oi,” Graham says, pointing at her.

“Nah, it’s gonna be great,” Ryan says. “Educational,” he adds virtuously.

Yaz grins.

The Doctor makes sure they both have their mobile phones securely fastened within their underclothes, in case of emergency. “Hate to think what would happen if you lost one,” she says, brightly. “Could change Earth’s future, just like that.” She snaps her fingers.

“You mean we could have flying cars by now,” Ryan says, sounding like he likes the idea.

The Doctor’s face changes, looking serious in the way she rarely does. The grin falls from Ryan’s face as the Doctor says, “Imagine what the Nazis could have done with flying cars.”

Graham claps his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “We’ll keep them safe as houses,” Graham assures her.

The Doctor beams. “Right then,” she says, and then she and Yaz are waving them off like they’re sending the kids off to school, and then it’s just the two of them, alone in the TARDIS together.

The two of them. Alone in the TARDIS together. Yaz’s heart beats faster. She notices, and then ignores it. 

“Are you sure they’ll be okay?” she says, struck by a moment of doubt. After all, it’s not like their adventures in time usually go to plan.

“They’ll be fine,” the Doctor says, waving her hand in an airy sort of way. “We’ll be back before they know it. Well, not literally, obviously, that would cause all sorts of time headaches, believe me.” The Doctor’s gaze turns distant and it doesn’t look like the memory is particularly pleasant. She appears to shake it off after a moment. “Been there, got the t-shirt, it’s in my room—”

“Doctor.”

“No, what I mean is, we’ll be back in time for kick-off. I do love a good game of football.”

“You do?”

“That’s the one where they strap giant bouncing balls to their feet and have to jump into the nets, right?”

Yaz shakes her head slowly, feeling a grin tugging at her lips despite her efforts to keep a straight face.

“I’m just joking. I’m actually quite good at football. Or at least, I was. In a previous life. Might be a bit rusty now.”

Yaz can’t decide if the Doctor’s still joking but she believes it anyway. The Doctor seems to be good at everything, once she puts her mind to it. 

The Doctor hadn’t mentioned the event was one giant rave.

Overhead the night sky is ablaze with all the colours of the rainbow and more, colours Yaz can’t even put a name to, colours so vibrant they look alive (and maybe they are. Yaz has come to believe anything is possible where the Doctor is involved). 

All around them people swirl and stamp and laugh. Yaz trails behind the Doctor as she effortlessly slides through the crowds. Once, the Doctor ducks to avoid a giant waving tentacle. Yaz keeps a wary eye out as she sidles past after her. Only a moment later the Doctor’s stepping—or rather, hopping—with an apologetic word to them, over a couple of tortoise shaped aliens. Yaz is going to assume, for the sake of everyone, that whatever they are doing is that species’ version of dancing. She gives them a wide berth.

On a nearby stage, stick insect creatures in bow ties are bent over shiny, metallic looking musical instruments. The tune is discordant, not unpleasant, although she’s not sure she could dance to it. She does catch sight of a group of people who wouldn’t look terribly out of place at a night club back in Sheffield who appear to be attempting the Macarena, with much giggling and falling about.

The Doctor suddenly stops and spins, holding out her hand towards Yaz, a gleeful expression on her face. Yaz smiles back helplessly and steps forward, reaching out her own hand. Underfoot, the dancefloor changes from a faintly glowing purple hue to a faintly glowing green one; the music changes seamlessly to something unexpectedly familiar, and on the stage….

“Is that…?” she gasps, as she takes the Doctor’s hand and is pulled irresistibly into her orbit.

“Yes,” the Doctor grins. She leans forward, her breath warm against Yaz’s ear. “Don’t tell anyone. She’s supposedly in seclusion working on her next album.”

The Doctor spins her away before Yaz can say anything else, then pulls her into her side, her body warm and slightly peppermint scented. Yaz laughs out loud, feeling suddenly giddy. The Doctor’s moving to her own beat, but she’s making it work and Yaz is swept up in the music, in the Doctor’s arms around her, in the shifting colours overhead reflected on the Doctor’s face. There are people all around them, but Yaz is barely aware of the shifting masses, she can see only the Doctor’s delighted smile, aware that she herself is grinning back so fiercely that her cheeks are aching with it.

The Doctor’s attention is drawn to something over Yaz’s shoulder. Her gaze sharpens, her smile fading. Yaz’s heart sinks. She turns to see what’s caught the Doctor’s attention, hoping it isn’t something that will ruin this moment, that will send them charging away on some new adventure or rescue mission. 

She can’t see anything amiss. Just humans and aliens dancing, some flailing about, some slow dancing with their partner… or partners. Yaz’s eyes widen despite herself at the group of beings rubbing up against each other way that she’s not sure qualifies as dancing, at least, not on Earth. Her eyes fall on two women—or at least, more clearly female presenting than many of the beings around them. They’re kissing, oblivious to their surroundings, wrapped up in each other in a way that makes Yaz’s chest ache with wistfulness.

She schools her expression to one of bland enquiry—her police training’s good for something even here—and turns back to face the Doctor. She doesn’t expect the thoughtful crease between the Doctor's brows, the way the Doctor is looking at Yaz as if she’s seeing her for the first time.

When the Doctor holds out her hand again, Yaz takes it, and, her heart beating so hard she can feel it, steps forward, sliding her free hand around the Doctor’s waist. She senses it, the way the Doctor’s body stiffens, as though she’s unused to this much intimacy or is unconfortable with it and for a moment Yaz is convinced that she has made a terrible mistake Her stomach clenches and she actually feels nauseus. But then the Doctor relaxes. She lets go of Yaz’s hand, but only to slide both of her arms around Yaz in return, as they move together to the music. 

And Yaz thinks, very clearly, that she won’t ever be happier than she is right now, dancing under an alien sky with the most amazing person she’s ever met, to Lady Gaga performing 'Born This Way'.


End file.
